


you've got blood in your veins (and it isn't yours)

by acronymed



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Implied Rape/Non-con, M/M, Suicide, also did i mention the murder, and murder sex, angry boys and angry sex, boys and their issues and some violence and murder, there's also a mention of suicide, this is why i do not try to write porn wow i'm so sorry, vigilante psychopaths in lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 06:11:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acronymed/pseuds/acronymed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something terribly satisfying about watching Jean, immaculate Jean with his perfect clothes and his perfect stupid hair, come undone in the most violent way possible.</p><p>Or: one time, Jean and Eren got along. But they don't like to talk about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you've got blood in your veins (and it isn't yours)

**Author's Note:**

> okay so again in big all caps letters THERE ARE MENTIONS OF RAPE/IMPLIED RAPE/SUICIDE IN HERE yes so jeaneren has essentially taken over my life and i can't write porn why did i try okay haha i'm done flies into the sun

 

Jean looks _good_ covered in blood, bruised knuckles and a slightly manic grin at the edges of his mouth, looks good when he's fighting someone who isn't Eren (he looks good even when he _is_ fighting Eren, actually, Eren's just never wanted to voice it out loud), looks good when he's putting his fist into someone's mouth, ripping open the skin and knocking loose a few teeth. There's something terribly satisfying about watching Jean, immaculate Jean with his perfect clothes and his perfect stupid hair, come undone in the most violent way possible.

"You just gonna stand there, asshole?" Jean drawls, like he isn't crushing someone's windpipe, "I think your guy's still breathing."

Jean has a smile like a knife when they argue, because he knows all the right ways to get under Eren's skin. Now his lips twist and Eren thinks of one of Armin's books, the one about creatures that lived in the sea, the one with the sharks. Rows and rows of tiny needle sharp teeth waiting to take a chunk out of soft flesh, a predator lurking in a thing Eren had thought looked pretty fucking dumb. The worst kind of dangerous. The best kind.

"Fuck you," Eren mutters, with little feeling. The guy on the floor, the blond one who'd made the comment about Mina — Mina, who hadn't smiled in weeks, who was always so cheerful, who kept trying to cover the bite mark on her shoulder, who Marco had finally made laugh at dinner yesterday — is blubbering through a mouthful of blood, one eye swelling shut. Eren kicks him in the face, the satisfying crunch of the bridge of his nose enough to make him grin. 

Jean snorts, goes, "you're completely batshit crazy," even as he slams a guy's head off the corner of the dining table, his temple splitting open, spraying blood across the floor. Eren can see the bone-white of his skull. The guy doesn't get up after that. "Hurry up, dumbass, we don't have all day."

Eren snarls, curling the corner of his mouth up until his lip tears and blood dribbles down his chin. Jean just raises a brow at him like he's an idiot, with gore smeared across his cheekbones and matted in his hair, and it makes something boiling hot roll down Eren's spine, breath stuttering in his chest.

He sets his boot over the guy on the floor's neck and blinks down at him once while he starts to cry.

_I don't even know his name._

"P - Please," blond guy gurgles, "I'm _sorry_ , I won't do it again, I swear—"

A week ago, one of the girls who used to sit with Sasha killed herself with one of her blades, quiet and neat behind the barracks. The week before that, she'd had faint bruises on her wrists that no one had asked about.

"You're right," Eren says softly, thinking of monsters in the shape of men, "you won't."

He puts all his weight into his heel. There's a sick crack, like the time Armin got his arm broken by bullies before Eren had showed up, but there's a wetness to it; bone and muscle and fluid mixed together and pooling on the floor as he brings his foot down again and again and again and—

"Jaeger." Jean sounds nervous, or anxious, one of those, "Jaeger, quit it. He's fucking dead already, dude."

Eren stops. Stares at the pulpy mess under his boot. Wipes it off on the guy's pants. Turns, a thrill that sparks like electricity under his skin pulsing in him.

Jean's rubbing his hands across his face, frowning when they come back sticky like he hadn't expected to be covered in blood after just fucking _murdering_ someone. Eren can see the violence still tugging at the corners of his eyes, never quite satisfied — he knows the feeling, the way it always leaves you wanting, aching. Jean may not be a constant pit of vicious anger the way he is, but he has it in him, something cruel and brutal, delighted in pain. Something that had burned its way to the surface when he'd said _I have sisters_ and _let's go find these fuckers_ and torn its way out of him after he'd thrown that first punch.

Jean, for all his entitled, spoiled, arrogant bullshit, is just as fucked up as Eren is. And that does _things_ to Eren that he isn't entirely against.

"What the hell are you looking at?" Jean says, right as Eren grabs him by his stupid fucking vest - he hates that vest, it makes Jean look like a pretentious dick before he even opens his mouth and proves he _is_ one - and throws him into a table, Jean's face brightening at the prospect of a fight (they aren't so different, are they, dammit), his hands already reaching for Eren's neck as Eren licks into his mouth.

Jean huffs into it, like he's pissed off, with Eren clutching at his forearms and Eren bracing all his weight against him and Eren sliding his tongue along his teeth, but then he grabs a fistful of Eren's hair and surges against him with a tiny, needy groan that goes right to Eren's cock.

"Why is this a thing," Jean complains, _complains_ , because he's a little shit even during sex apparently, mouthing at Eren's pulse point almost desperately, shoving his hands up Eren's shirt until his palms spread against his shoulders, "I don't even _like_ you oh my God—"

Eren bites at his collarbones and starts trying to rip that _goddamn fucking vest_ off with both hands. Buttons pop and skid across the floor. "Can you _shutting the fuck_ up be a thing."

"Fuck you," Jean growls against his throat, and the sound of it rolls through Eren and settles deep in his chest. His fingers trip over Eren's ribs as they skim down, down until his thumbs press into his hips and then lower, tugging. 

Eren gives up on the vest and just rips as much of Jean's shirt open as he can, so he can nip at the bare skin of his chest, press his mouth to the hollow of his throat. Jean's skin burns hot, always has — it's something Eren used to notice when they fought and Jean's clothes would ruck up just enough that when they wrestled Eren would usually catch smooth skin against his bare arm. Now, pressing the tip of his tongue to a scar Jean got during training a year ago, Eren thinks about burrowing into him, burning up in him, cracking him open and letting all that warmth out.

Jean's still fumbling with his pants, exhaling in one long breath, "Jesus Christ what is this a chastity belt what the _actual fuck_ Jaeger—"

Eren pushes Jean's hands away and strips his pants off so easily he can _feel_ Jean seething without having to look at him. There's blood all over his stomach in the shape of sticky fingerprints and smears, courtesy of Jean. He pulls his shirt off in one smooth motion. He can see Jean swallow once, hard, follows the movement of his throat and thinks about what else could make him do that.

"Alright, horseface," his palms sliding down the back of Jean's pants and dragging him closer, so they can see the anger in each other, and Jean's mouth is spit slick, swollen and red, "your turn."

It's almost offensive, how quickly Jean's vest hits the floor, and the look on Jean's face clearly says _two can play at this game, motherfucker_ so Eren unzips his jeans for him, and then promptly squeezes his dick.

Jean's fingers curl around Eren's wrist, reflexive, even as he makes a noise that breaks in the middle and licks a long, wet stripe up the side of Eren's neck. Eren knows there's a shit load of blood on his face, wonders how much of a mouthful Jean just got, pushes them both harder into the table so he doesn't have to think about how his cock twitches at the thought.

He pumps his fist once, just to see what the friction does, his hands more sticky than wet now, and Jean pulls his hair so hard his eyes actually water, drags his mouth across the cut of Eren's jaw before he kisses him again, hard and hungry. Their teeth clack together, and Eren twists his wrist just _so_.

" _Sweet Jesus fuck_ ," Jean mumbles against his lips, then slides his tongue along Eren's and digs his thin fingers into Eren's ass so he can slot their hips together and the grind of their cocks when he rolls his hips makes Eren actually _whine_. "Pants. Off. Now."

"You're such a bitch," Eren says, obliging and not entirely sure how he's forming sentences at this point, and Jean just looks at him, straight faced, while he licks his palm until it's shiny with spit and then grabs them both in one hand and does _something_ that makes Eren's knees buckle and he ends up bracketing Jean's hips with his legs and groaning into his cheek.

"This should definitely be a thing," Eren babbles, Jean's palm sliding in long, slow strokes, Jean's cock warm and sticky and so fucking hot against him, his hips pressing down hard, then harder, desperate for contact, Jean's nails digging into his lower back, Jean's mouth at his ear. "Like - _ugh_ \- like -"

Jean laughs, unkindly. "Like _shut up_."

"Fuck," Eren breathes, clawing at Jean's shoulders, looking at the blood on the table, the floor, them. Looking at the little bits of carnage still in Jean's face - the tic in his jaw as he clenches it, the tightness in his cheeks - knowing its mirrored in his own. " _Fuck._ "

#

Months later, Armin says, "you've both got that vicious look in your eyes."

Eren thinks he doesn't know how right he is.

 


End file.
